The Best Man
by luckintheair04
Summary: It was Harry who bought the ring, Harry who wrote the vows, Harry who danced with the bride to their song. So how come it wasn't his wedding, but Ron's? -Harry/Hermione
1. The Wedding

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or anything related to Harry Potter that's mentioned below. **

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**_The Best Man_**

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She looked like she was gliding as she walked towards him, her arm tangled with her father's, her eyes shining, lips smiling and at times quivered since she was brimming with happiness. When she appeared, it reminded him the way she came down the stairs for the Yule Ball donned in a dress, making him realize how pretty she was.

She always had her simple tastes decorating her elegantly; that Harry wasn't surprised how easy it was for her to look beautiful in her simple wedding dress. She held flowers that looked similar to the ones she conjured for his parent's grave and she had not straightened her curly locks to keep up with the occasion. He was glad. He liked her hair curly and he had a feeling that she knew that. She smiled at him as she stepped on to the altar and he could see that she was bursting with excitement the way her breasts swelled and her thumbs twiddled against her bouquet.

He watched her as his best friend, Ron, took her small hand in to his large ones and guided her to stand next to him.

This was it. His best friends were getting married.

oooo

"You may exchange rings"

He saw Ron turn to him expectantly. Harry's fingers shook slightly as he pulled out the box from his pocket. Ron had left him to buy the specific ring he had chosen for the occasion before he left for his Chudley Cannons match. But when Harry had gone to buy the ring, his thoughts had attacked him. Hermione didn't like those types. The flashy and big diamonds and rubies. She was the simple but elegant, convenient but graceful.

He couldn't help it when he chose a different ring instead. He knew it wasn't right to do so, but his thoughts and Hermione's face nagged him.

And now Ron was going to see it for the first time. He watched his friend open the box and Ron's eyes flickered towards Harry with confusion but nevertheless pulled it out. Harry curiously watched Hermione's reaction to it and he felt triumph wash through him as she looked at it adoringly. Of course, she was going to love it. It slipped in to her finger easily.

And she loved the vows Ron said. The vows Harry had written since Ron had been on tour.

oooo

He watched as the newlyweds danced, or shifted on their feet to be exact. He knew Ron wasn't a dancer (which he perfectly understood why) and he hadn't had time to practice because of Quiddich. But they looked content and Hermione didn't seem to mind.

When the next song started, people started to join them on the floor. Mr and Mrs Granger, Mr and Mrs Weasley, George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur. Ginny made a bee line to him.

"It's a custom." She supplied.

Harry nodded and took her hand and thought why not just this once? Their relationship was rocky but this was his best friend's wedding. The best man and the maid of honour always danced.

oooo

"Oh Harry." She said fondly. There were countless times she said the two words; either with worry, relief or adoration. He sometimes wondered whether it would sound the same during other circumstances. How different would it sound if she sighed it when he rubbed her back, or moaned it when he bit her neck or cried it when she came undone underneath him?

She looked happy. Of course she would. Why wouldn't she? Hermione's face was flushed with joy, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at him. Didn't she realize how short she was? Ron looked like a giant next to her. Harry's thoughts strayed treacherously on how they had or would have sex until he pulled himself together. What was he thinking?

"You know I'm not a good dancer." He said.

"It's the Best Man's duty to dance with the bride." Hermione pointed out, her hand gliding on his shoulders, effectively sending a shiver down his spine.

They were shifting on the spot like she and Ron had done since Harry was not intending to step on toes or crash in to the dancers nearby.

"Well, I'm sorry you're stuck with me." Harry offered.

Hermione shook her head. "I'd pick you any day." It felt like it meant about something other than dancing and Harry liked the sound of it.

"So you danced with Ginny." She noted.

"It meant nothing." He shrugged. "It was for the sake of customs."

"Maybe that's what you want to think."

He shook his head. "I don't think Ginny and I would make it to where you are right now." He said, quite apologetically. A brief silence followed.

"You wrote the vows, didn't you?" Hermione said, out of nowhere.

Harry's lips parted and wondered whether to deny it or not. Was she accusing him? Had Ron come clean over it?

"What makes you think so?" He asked slowly.

She laughed. "I know you, Harry. 'Love is an abstract idea. If it was a word, I know we're the definition'? Ron was never that poetic."

"I'm sorry. Ron didn't have time and he wasn't confident he could write anything up." Harry said. "It's not his fault, he was really busy."

She shushed him. "It's fine, Harry."

"You don't mind?"

"No. I enjoyed it." She assured him.

"You know Ron loves you."

"I do." She smiled wistfully, but her eyes were directed firmly on to his. Harry wanted to say more but he had nothing else that came across his mind so he let the music fill the silence in. It was then he thought the music sounded rather familiar. He saw Hermione's eyes blink with recognition and he knew she saw that he recognized it too. Her hands took his and they began to sway in familiar movements. He grinned and she replied with a laugh.

His knees bended awkwardly and arms moved as if they were flat flobberworms. Hermione giggled at his terrible dancing and Harry pulled her in to his arm, twirling her around, their robes and dresses swishing with their song. They swayed and spun, drowning everyone else with the music.

It was just Harry and Hermione in the tent, dancing to the music on the radio. No brightest witch, nor a boy who lived. And Harry realized then, that this moment could have been his wedding, not Ron's.

They were now pressed together, one arm around each other's waist and the other holding their hand. The pace of their movements slowed down as Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder and rested her chin on her hand. Both Harry's arms wound around her waist as he rested his cheek against her head. They didn't notice some people eye them curiously as their faces crossed a solemn look. They didn't notice Ginny look at them, who knew all too well that this connection that they kept alive for years was never going to be the same again.

The song ended and they pulled their faces back to look at each other like they did that night. She had untangled herself from him that night and gone outside. He had just sat back down to brood about what had happened. But now they're eyes were glued on to each other. Her eyes were dilated and her chest brushed against his every time she took a breath, the lace brushing against his cotton robes. Reality was dawning again like the sun did every 24 hours.

"What happened, Hermione?" Harry murmured.

"I don't know." She said, probably for the first time since he met her. Her teeth that once used to be large, bit on her lower lip and it would have been so easy for him to release them and capture them between his own, suckle them and feel them.

"It won't ever be the same, will it?" He said, a bit of anger seeping in to his voice. He hated how everything had to change. He had parents, the next moment they were gone. He had a godfather and then not. He was a target among thousands, then a chosen one. And one thing he always had and depended on was taken away from him.

This was when Ron stepped in and clapped his back. "Hey, mate. Mind if I have my wife back?" He said in a light manner, but Harry could hint the possessiveness in his voice. Hermione winced slightly as she recognized it and stepped away to join her husband.

_The one thing he always had and depended on was taken away from him._

"Yeah, go ahead." Harry said, looking at Hermione for her answer but she merely looked away. "Well, congratulations guys." He pulled a grin, hoping that it wouldn't look like a grimace.

oooo

When he got to the door, he ran in to Ginny.

"I'll tell them someone called you out on an assignment." She assured, knowingly.

Harry nodded and thanked her, loosening his tie as he apparated straight to Grimmauld place, flinging his robes on to the floor. He felt alone more than ever

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**Thanks for reading. This little thing came out of nowhere and I just had to type it out. **

**Let me know your thoughts, cause I think I could use some feedback on making this better. **


	2. The Divorce

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the things related to it mentioned below.**

**I decided to expand this fan fiction and here is the second chapter! I've taken out one particular sentence (The last one where most people deemed it made the story feel incomplete) from the last chapter. Other than that, well, enjoy!**

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Hermione paused before she knocked on the door. She bit her lip, fidgeted a bit where she stood and shifted the bags in her left hand to the right. This was the last place on her list of potential houses she had considered to stay. Her pale blue dress fluttered against the evening breeze and her hair tie was not holding the strands of hair that was waving free.

Hermione was ashamed. Ashamed that she was looking for a place to stay, ashamed she almost begged Tom for a room at Leaky Cauldron when it was already full, ashamed that her hair looked like a crow's nest, ashamed that she was trying hard not to let the tears in her eyes spill on to her cheek as she walked on the streets.

Ashamed that her marriage had lasted only two fucking years.

Ashamed that _she_ was the one who got kicked out.

Ashamed that she was going to that one person who she kicked out of her life.

She knocked again, fervently hoping he was home. She really didn't have any other place to go. She couldn't go to any of the Weasleys now that she divorced one of them. Her parents had relatives she detested over at their house, probably occupying her room. Ginny was out travelling Europe with one of her flings. Or was it serious this time? She didn't know.

So this was her last hope. And he seemed like he wasn't home.

Hermione bit her already chapped lips and looked around. Maybe she could go to a muggle hotel until she found a proper place to stay, or maybe until her relatives left her parent's house. She looked at the dark green door that stood shut in front of her. She hesitantly knocked again and jumped when it banged open, revealing a flustered looking Harry Potter tying the front of his house robe, his hair dishevelled and glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose.

"Hermione. Hello." Harry greeted in a rather confused tone, as if trying to register the fact that she was actually standing on his doorstep.

She really didn't blame him. They hadn't talked in weeks, mostly due to the fact that Ron had persuaded Hermione it was improper for a woman to hang around another man so often, when she was married. That had been about four months after her marriage.

"Hello, Harry." Hermione said, offering a timid smile but took in the state of his attire and hair. "Were you sleeping?" She asked curiously. It was six in the evening. He took a nap, perhaps?

"Uh, no. No, I wasn't." He fidgeted, rather like a ten year old caught eating sweets before dinner. Hermione wondered why he wasn't asking her to come in. She was still standing by his door. "What brought you here?" He asked.

"Oh, well, you see…" Hermone looked at the bags she was clutching in her hands. "Ron and I, we kinda, well, divorced. Yesterday in fact. You know, signed papers and all." She stopped talking seeing the look on Harry's face.

"Divorced? How—Ron didn't even mention any of it!" Harry said, quite shocked. He opened the door widely and Hermione took this as a sign that she was invited in. He closed the door behind her. "When did you guys decide?"

"Last week. Maybe two weeks ago. Maybe all along." Hermione laughed bitterly. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could stay here till I find somewhere, or at least till my parent's house is vaca—"

"Of course!" He exclaimed. "You can stay here as long as you like. Here, I'll make you something to drink. I'm really sorry, Hermione. If I had known, I would've done something. Are you feel—"

But his voice was cut off from a voice that floated from upstairs. "Harry, you're not going to leave me tied up, are you, love?"

Harry's face went bright red and Hermione bit her lip again, feeling herself heat up as well. So that's why he had looked uncomfortable when he came to the door.

"Maybe I should leave." She said in a quiet voice. But he grabbed her arm, his palms rough but warm against her skin.

"No! Look, I'll, umm… ask her to come later or something." He said.

"Harry, you don't hav—"

"I insist, Hermione. You're going through a hard time, I want t—"

"Stop teasing me, Babe." The mystery woman upstairs crooned, her voice echoing the halls. "I want you in me right now, Harry. I want your huge, thick—"

"I'm coming!" Harry called out to save the humiliation and Hermione instantly pictured a scene where the same words could have applied in a different context. She cast her eyes downwards. He turned to look at her. "Just stay. She'll be gone and we can talk properly. I'd rather you not stay at some strange place alone when you should be with someone." He said in a quiet voice.

Hermione looked at him and wasn't really surprised at his sincerity. This was Harry; bumbling, loyal, confused, passionate Harry. What else would one expect?

"Alright." She sighed tiredly. "But just go finish what you started. I'd rather not have your lady friend be unsatisfied on my account" Hermione said drily. "I'll make myself some tea and settle in."

"Are- are you sure?" Harry asked, licking his lips. "It would be rude of me—"

"To ditch a lady when you got her on." Hermione pointed out as she headed to the kitchen. "Run along, Harry. She wants your huge, thi—"

"Fine, fine." Harry said, blushing at her teasing.

Hermione laughed lightly as she heard him go upstairs. The kitchen looked the same as last time she had been here. In fact, everything looked pretty much the same. He had not changed a single thing except the portrait of Sirius's mother. It was missing now and very quiet at that. Kreacher was gone too. She had heard Harry often let the house-elf work at Hogwarts, rather than at Grimmauld Place.

"You saucy minx….." She heard Harry's voice from upstairs, and a shiver ran through her spine as a door banged close. That voice had sounded deep and husky. So different from how he talked to her seconds ago. A side she had not known that existed.

For the record, she hadn't even dreamt Harry as someone who would enjoy bondage. Was he dominating in bed? Hermoine wondered as she pulled out a mug from the cupboards and filled the kettle with water. But Harry was so gentle and warm.

It's just, it didn't seem likely…

_Oh_ but, he could be so passionate about things! So passionate, maybe he bruised lips in bed, left teeth marks on the skin, crooned sweet nothings and groaned when he came undone.

And she did remember those tempers he used to have at Hogwarts. Those tempers that would probably slam bodies against the wall, or the headboard or the mattress, bit against plump lips, spat dirty words against the shell of an ear and left hand prints on the hips.

He was a born leader too, she thought, remembering the DA. He'd probably guide the hand to the groin; instructed the amount of pressure, amount of force and all the physics involved. Maybe showed the many ways his name could spill from eager lips.

Maybe, just maybe….. Harry loved leading and controlling his pleasures too.

Hermione bit her lip at this train of thoughts, pressing her thighs together in slight discomfort. The kettle whistled and she poured the hot water in to her mug where she had tossed the tea bag in. She added one and a half teaspoons of sugar and sat by the table. She wondered who the woman was upstairs. Was he seeing someone? She never heard any of the sorts. Was he sleeping around with random women? Hermione's nose scrunched. It was his life, but she really, really hoped he wasn't that type of person.

The whole house was silent. One would expect a lot of noise if it was rough shagging that was going on up there, Hermione mused sipping her tea tentatively. Maybe Harry cast a silencing charm. Rather considerate of him.

She took another drink, deciding she had put too little sugar in her tea. She felt a certain animosity towards the unknown lady upstairs. If Hermione was to be completely honest, deep in her heart, she had hoped he would kick the woman out so he would be with Hermione; to talk her sorrows and mistakes, comfort her and hold her while she sobbed. Hermione roughly wiped her moist eyes.

But then again, who was _she_ to deny his needs?

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**So do you think it was okay for Harry to have slept with the witch upstairs while Hermione was in the kitchen? Meh? Terrible? Hope to hear something about that.**

**Or any other potential advice you have. n_n**

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. The Room

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related mentioned below.**

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"I didn't know you were seeing someone." Hermione said eyeing his new attire—a T-shirt and pyjama pants— as she passed the tea she had prepared for him. If he looked closely he could tell that she had been in the verge of crying. Harry wasn't thick to think it was _allergies_ when he saw red eyes on a girl. Not after seeing so many crying girls despite his reluctance to ever face one.

"I'm not seeing anyone." He said, taking a sip from the lukewarm tea as he sat down opposite her.

He badly wanted to talk about her rather sudden divorce but decided a little bit of chit-chat would ease them in to a comfortable atmosphere. Yes, Harry Potter had finally learned the strategies to a heart-to-heart conversation. Not that he usually needed one with Hermione, but since they hadn't talked in a long time he deemed it necessary.

"Oh, pardon me. It skipped my mind you had moaning myrtle over." She said, with a slight quirk on her lips. Harry almost spat his tea out.

"Hermione, _that_ was an image you and I could have lived without." He groaned. "For your information, I-well, have this casual thing going on. With a _friend_." He said, not really wanting to go in to details over it.

"A casual thing? Like a shag buddy?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "You're rather full of surprises, aren't you?"

He flushed. He knew it wasn't like him to categorize sex as casual. Harry had always been slightly more of a romantic than the rest of his friends. Sex was intimate to him; an act that concerned emotions other than lust, preferably 'love'.

But honestly, people changed, at least to a certain extent.

He rarely thought sex as 'making love' (merlin forbid) like he used to in his younger years anymore, but more bluntly as 'fucking' whenever he bedded Kath. It was easy to give a half-hearted term to it to his hopeful little heart that had been so willing to give away the love it had stored when the war was over.

To give it away to Ginny

To give it away to Hermione

And in the end, which had all been a waste. A thought had occurred to him then; that maybe not all people found the love they were looking for and not in people they expected from.

But _sometimes_ he would get hopeful, whenever he laughed together with the waitress at the Leaky Cauldron or he talked to Kath after sex even though they both agreed the deed was like doing yoga together and nothing emotional or when Hermione showed up by his doorstep.

Of course, he squashed those hopes. Always had.

"Talking about surprises," he said, steering the conversation to where he wanted it, "I thought I'd be having Ron over. It's more like _you_ to kick him out."

He watched her bite her lip and realized she'd been doing that a lot. And it showed from the redness and the marks on her bottom lip.

"Honestly, I really didn't want to be in that house anymore." She sighed. "I'm pretty sure Ron was going to give me the courtesy of staying, but I'm afraid I jumped at the chance of leaving the house."

"Oh?"

"It had too many memories" Hermione elaborated.

"Good ones?"

"And bad ones." She shrugged.

Harry nodded and a silence settled in. Most people would have jumped to describe it as a comfortable silence but Harry really didn't know what a comfortable one felt like anymore. He could do with the lack of conversation but he felt he needed to talk anyway.

"I thought you guys were alright together." He said.

"I thought so too for a while."

"I mean, Ron did mention that things were rough, but you know how you two were in Hogwarts."

"Do I?"

"You guys always mended things up." Harry explained. "You know, the time with the Firebolt and the Yuleball."

"Those were long time ago." She chuckled.

"That whole deed with Lavender."

"I feel ashamed of that." Hermione admitted. "Teenage hormones."

"And well, of course during the time we were on the run. You know, when—"

"When he left us, yes." Hermione's eyes flickered into his before they cast down on her mug, most probably empty from what Harry could see. "I keep thinking, all those times, maybe the fact that we fought a lot was a sign."

"That you weren't supposed to be together?" Harry asked

She nodded, determined to keep her eyes on her hands.

"You could take it the other way too." Harry pointed out. Sometimes he wondered why he was so selfless. "Maybe it was a sign that you two were meant to be together, even though you had your rifts. You two always made up."

She looked up and there was frustration in her eyes.

"Do you think we'll patch up this time too then?" Hermione asked.

Harry thought for a moment and shook his head. "I don't know, Hermione. It's all really up to you."

"I-I don't think I want to, Harry." She said. "I lost myself being married to him. I felt like I was smothered in all this- this- huge amount of _Ron_! Do you know what I mean?"

Harry slowly nodded. He had an idea.

"We fought and yes, we made up. But every time we fought, he took something away from me and it never came back when we made up." Hermione rambled. She got up and placed the mug in the sink, her back to him while she folded her arms.

"And then after a while I just realize that we fought over the most inane things, Harry. We fought over who left the sugar open and why I shouldn't wear dresses that showed my knees."

Harry's eyes glanced down at the hemline of her blue dress and it was noticeably right above her knees. Her dress twirled as she faced him.

"We fought about why I couldn't drink too much at a party and why I should straighten my hair. We fought about why I shouldn't point out his ridiculousness to control what I do and why I should trust him. Merlin, we fought about who could be on top!" She exclaimed.

"It was always about what I should be to him." She said in a quiet voice. "And I was tired of that." Harry noticed the traitorous tears that slipped down her cheeks and he pursed his lips. He decided to wait a bit before he got up and attempted to comfort her.

But he watched more tears escape her eyes and he could see she was trying really hard to contain them. It pained him seeing her miserable even though they had hardly exchanged solid conversation in weeks. He got up and winced when the chair scraped against the floor. He walked towards her but she turned away from him, hastily wiping the tears.

"Sorry, I just- I know you hate when girls cry." She gave a watery laugh.

"And boys too." he joked

She nodded with a giggle.

"I don't hate it." He said, leaning against the sink beside her after placing his empty mug in it. "Makes me tad uncomfortable. But I think I'm used to you."

"Doesn't mean you like it."

"No, I reckon not." He shifted his glasses.

She nodded, wiping her hands on her dress. Harry noticed a trail of light freckles on her shoulders, and his hand treacherously reached out to trail the dots with his thumb. He felt her eyes bore in to him and goose bumps bloomed on her shoulder. He looked at her. Their eyes lock so easily, it almost clicked. He moved his thumb, grazing the skin gently and it moved down,

Down to her elbow,

To her wrist,

To her thumb,

"I… Do you want to go upstairs?"

His voice was quiet and he didn't mean it to sound deep as if he was intending to whisk her off and make passionate love to her.

There goes again; his desire to love.

Or make love, in this case.

Squash it, squash it, squash it, squash it, squash it, squash it.

She nodded though and Harry managed not to linger his eyes on her face as he pushed himself off from the sink. He felt her follow him as he lead her upstairs. He didn't know if it was a good thing that he was so aware of her right now. It felt like his senses were all heightened when it concerned Hermione at the moment. He could feel her body heat even though she wasn't too close. Her scent, it smelled like toothpaste, came wafting in to his nostrils. Her feet landed on the stairs with soft thuds. And he could see from the corner of his eyes that she was frowning, no doubt assessing what had gone over in the kitchen.

He decided to give the room across his. To have her in a room nearby greatly appealed to him for unknown reasons.

Why?

He missed her. Yes, that probably was it. That's why he felt like he wanted to hover close to her. And it would be easy to keep an eye on her, even though it meant he'll have to reduce Kath's visits. But that really didn't sound too bad now, did it?

"Thank you, Harry. I really do appreciate what you're doing for me." Hermione said, passing him and setting her only two bags on the bed in the room. "And don't worry; I won't stay too long."

"You can stay here as long as you like." He said, almost bashfully, walking up to her.

"You wouldn't have much privacy then, would you?" She said pointedly, unpacking her bags. He watched her pull out clothes and books, and noticed she was avoiding his face.

"Why would I- Oh, I'm fine about _that_. I don't bring her over that often."

"Who is she?" Her tone was far too casual. It sounded almost accusing.

"Someone from work." Harry provided with a shrug.

"Katherine?"

Harry blinked. How did she _always_ know? "She understands it's not serious." He explained. He frowned when she gave a Hermione-ish snort.

"Harry, they always get serious whether you want it or not."

"I've been having this for a while Hermione. I think I would know if it's getting serious." He retorted and he spied her wince at his tone.

"You know how Katherine is." Hermione finally looked at him from her bag, licking her lips.

"Do I?"

"Yes. She's superficial, desperate and she's….. she's not right for you." Hermione sighed with frustration.

"Oh, so you know what's right for me? Looks like you're going a bit _Ron_ on me too." Harry snapped. It angered him that she would come along and tell him what to do, when he had finally found a way to make things better.

Hermione looked hurt but she stood her ground like she always did. "I-You're not like this. You're not the type to just…. Just sleep around. Like some rotten pureblood ferret." Her mouth was starting to rant again, much like she did in her school days.

Harry folded his arms. "So what am I like?" He narrowed his eyes in challenge.

"You're someone who looks for something serious. You have girlfriends; a lover. Not a friend-with-benefits. You love with your heart, not your….. You know, your _prick_." She said, and she had the gall to glance right at his crotch.

"Are you sure you're divorced, because you still sound like a Weasley." Harry sneered. He didn't expect it when she pushed him suddenly. He forgot Hermione Granger got physical when she was angry.

"Oh, shut up! I get it, okay?" She cried. "You're mad because I-I just stopped our friendship—"

"Caught on, have you?"

"And this time I chose Ron over you, after all this time." She continued, ignoring his snarky comment. "You must be happy now I was miserable doing so. Are you happy I regret it? Do you feel cocky enough that you're going to shag a desk clerk at your office as a celebration?" Her eyes were piercing and her lips twisted in to a scowl.

"Happy? Are you fucking kidding me? Looks like you became dense becoming Ron's wife—"

"I'm NOT his WIFE" Dear god, she was crying again.

"Could've fooled me. You still wear a ring on your finger."

"He didn't want it"

"Like me? Like Ginny didn't want me? Like you didn't want me?"

"Don't you think the pity party is too late now?" Hermione scorned. "Or do you have one with Katherine every night?"

"She's not a pity party." Harry fumed.

"Right, a shag buddy…."

"I was trying to distract myself because the two so called _best_ friends decided to drop me from their fucking charity work. Decided they—"

She pushed him again but he grabbed her hands. "You weren't a charity work!" She raged, clutching the front of his shirt. "How dare you?"

"How dare _YOU?" _He spat. "Hermione, how dare you come back and ruin what I build up so that I don't have to feel the pain."

She bit her lip again and this time Harry instinctively pressed his thumb on her lower lip and pried it off from her teeth. Did she realize she leaned in to his touch, that her heaving breasts were brushing against his shirt like it did at her wedding?

It felt like ages as they stared, trying to figure out the other with their roaming eyes.

Hermione sighed and rested her forehead against his chest, in defeat. Her shoulders rose and dropped as she took deep breaths, probably something she adapted to make sure she didn't hex Ron's balls off in her fury. Harry bit his own lip as he felt her shudder in to new found sobs, her hands gripping his cotton shirt tighter.

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his head on hers, her hair tickling his stubble. She was still rather short. But she fit him well. It was like holding a something in his palm, maybe a snitch. He tightened his arms around her. She fit snugly against him.

"What happened, Harry?" She sniffed.

"I don't know"

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**Thank you for your previous reviews! I would love to hear more on your thoughts too, since most of the time I tend to pick something from the reviews for the story.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	4. The Ring

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter is NOT mine, nor are anything related to it mentioned below.**

**Thank you for your reviews.**

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Hermione looked down at her hand. She had felt the cool band on her finger when she had been showering and it felt like a piece of ice against her skin when she had run her hand against her body.

Harry had held her until her tears had dried and let her unpack while he went downstairs. Before he left her to organize the room the way she wished, he had touched her cheek with his fingers and she had given him a smile to indicate that they were fine. Fine, how, she wasn't sure. Did this mean that she was forgiven for neglecting him? Did this mean that he was going to consider his bedding arrangements? Did this mean that she was going to choose him from now on?

_You still wear a ring on your finger_

He had looked so bitter when he said that. Why would he? It was just a stupid ring. And ugly one at that, she thought looking at it on her finger. Then why was she wearing it? It was big and flashy, everything Hermione was not. She wriggled the jewellery off her hand and looked at it.

What was one supposed to do with a wedding band when the marriage had not worked out? Sell it? Flush it down the loo? Give it to the less fortunate?

Hermione grimaced and merely set the ring on the sink for the time being as she got dressed. After carefully drying her hair in to slightly damp curls, she took the wedding band and looked for its box in her bag. She probably had it in with her other jewellery. Finally finding it, she opened it and paused.

Sitting in the box was her first wedding ring; the one Ron had slipped in to her waiting finger on the actual wedding day.

Hermione never understood why Ron had come back with a new ring two weeks later after their honeymoon. She had loved the first one, so why was he insisting that she wore the new one? That had been their first argument since they got married. It was maddening how stubborn Ron could be when he wanted to. So Hermione had relented and worn the flashy one hoping none of her co-workers or friends would notice she had changed rings.

Well, Harry did. He was the first to notice.

"_Your ring's different." _

"_Oh…. Yes. I didn't think you'll notice"_

"_How come? I mean, how come it's different?"_

"_Ron got me another one. I _had_ to wear it. I mean... isn't it lovely?"_

Now placing them side by side, it was like the new ring was what Ron intended to make of her while the old one was what she always was. Maybe Ron actually knew her then. She picked the simple ring which had a pretty design engraved on it and slipped it in to her finger. Holding her hand from afar, she admired it with a sad smile. It still fit her well. Pity she couldn't wear it. She hated that she loved the ring.

"Hey." Harry's voice came from the door and Hermione head whipped, dropping her arm to her side, embarrassed being caught looking at her ring like a fool.

"Supper's ready." He said, and she could spy the twinkle in his eye. She nodded and hurriedly pulled the ring from her finger, flushing as she did so. He must think that she still wanted Ron, that maybe she was going back to her non-existent sappy memories, that she was feeling lonely and missing h—

She felt Harry's hand stop hers from closing the small box. She hadn't realized that he had walked up and was standing so close that if she swayed slightly with her feet planted firmly on the wooden floor, she would feel his front against her hair and her back. Her heart was banging against her chest and she tried to will it to calm down.

"Don't." He murmured, opening the box again and she watched with fascination how his fingers ignored the gaudy one and picked up the ring she had been admiring seconds ago. Hermione felt him move; now standing facing her. She looked up at his face; his lips parted as he picked her right hand in to his large ones, and slipped the ring in to her ring finger. There was something sensual the way he put it, slow but surely, his fingers grazing against her skin in a warm trail. Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.

"It looks nice." He said, finally meeting her eyes. His hand still held hers and they were gentle. They always had been with her. She gave a small smile and she couldn't help glance down at his lips when they curved a little as well. He had pretty lips, she decided. She glanced back up at his eyes.

Pretty eyes too.

Suddenly she wished that he would pull her hand, guide them up to his lips and kiss her hand, softly on her fingers with those pretty lips, with those pretty eyes looking straight at her. It would have been perfect then.

"Let's go. Don't want the dinner to get cold now." He said, clearing his throat. He let go of her hand and placed his palm on the small of her back.

She nodded, now starting to puzzle over what had happened. It was curious why he was fine with her wearing this simple ring when he had made a fuss about the other one. In fact, it didn't make sense at all. Maybe he didn't really care whether she wore a ring or not.

And she didn't even want to think twice of her reaction towards him.

"Was there any shampoo in your bathroom? I don't remember if there had been any." Harry said interrupting her thoughts.

"There was an almost empty one." Hermione replied. "But I had my own ones, so it was fine."

They climbed down the stairs in silence, her hands brushing against his thigh. A sweet aroma hit her nose as she drew closer to the kitchen and she hadn't realized how hungry she had been.

"You should've told me that you were preparing food. I would have come and helped." Hermione chided as they entered the kitchen.

"Oh, well. I'll let you help next time then." Harry said. "But you do tend to burn food rather than cook them."

"I've grown better." She said indignantly, missing the palm on her back when she took a seat, eyeing the dishes on the table.

"Well, you can make breakfast tomorrow then. We'll see if I can trust you with food." Harry said, his tone casual but his eyes were watching her in amusement.

"Is this about when I cooked during our Horcrux hunt?" Hermione glared at his back when he turned to get plates for them. He had broad shoulders, she noticed.

"No, no." His voice clearly indicated that he was grinning. Hermione huffed.

"Did Ron say something about it?" She asked, almost worried now. She didn't need Ron telling people about her domestic skills. Merlin, did he talk about other things too? Like the way she preferred showering with her underwear on or the way she lightly snored? Did he talk about how she kept her tummy in when they had sex?

Harry set the plates on the table. "You know I don't see Ron as much." He said shaking his head. "So, no, he didn't tell me anything."

"I had no idea Ron wasn't in touch with you." Hermione said curiously, but rather gladly.

"We run in to each other during lunch occasionally, but that's about it."

"I'm sorry, I had—"

"It's fine. Don't worry. I've learnt to deal with it." Harry said waving his hand in dismissal. "Here, dig in." He offered the soup he had made.

Hermione glanced at him and decided not to pursue the subject of Ron's apparent disinterest in keeping his friendship with Harry. She didn't really have a choice because she was a '_married woman with a commitment to one man_' as Ron put it but what was his excuse?

"Don't think about it, Hermione." Harry said, while he served. "He'll probably be back being friends, now that you guys aren't together."

"What's that got to do with anything?" She demanded. But she had a feeling she knew.

Harry smirked. "Everything."

And Hermione cursed his soup for being so good.

* * *

**So I'm rather curious whether I should upgrade this fiction to a rating of M or a T. If you feel this would be better as an M rated fiction, just give me an M. If not, just put a T on the review box to let me know. **

**Other reviews are welcome as well.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	5. The Hair

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters mentioned in this story.**

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes. He had been dreaming, he realized, squinting his eyes at the light that streamed from the window. It hit him directly in the eyes and he groaned at the brightness. Maybe he should move the bed so he wasn't woken like someone was shooting a spell at him, he thought.

What had he been dreaming?

Socks, he remembered. He had been dreaming a lot about those lately. But _what_ about them, he never remembered. They were sometimes white socks, sometimes mismatched coloured ones. It reminded him of Dobby most of the time and it brought him a sad smile.

In all honesty, his life felt like a sad smile.

Suddenly he wondered what time it was and reached out to grasp his pocket watch. His eyes blinked disbelieving at the time. Was he reading it right? Of course, he was.

"Fuck."

He stumbled out of bed in a hurry and didn't bother to grab his glasses, nor to close the door as he stripped for a shower. He was surely going to be late for work and the trainees were not going to appreciate it, _chosen one_ or not.

He hadn't bothered to dry properly or comb his hair. He was going to regret it later, for sure. As soon as it dried, his hair was bound to look like it was struck by lightning. How appropriate, he snorted. He quickly dressed, not realizing that somebody was likely to wince at the smear near the elbow of his shirt. But it didn't matter. He was _late_ and he was going to wear his robes over them anyway. Harry stuck his feet in to his shoes and grabbed his bag before bumbling down the stairs. Merlin, he'll have skip breakfast. But he was so famished; at least half boiled tea would have to do. Thankfully he had planned his lessons the other day instead of procrastinating it like he did most of the time.

He almost tripped on his shoe laces when he came to the kitchen and stopped short staring at the sight in front of him. There stood Hermione Granger, donned in her work robes, her concentration solely on flipping the pancakes on the frying pan. There were some golden ones on a plate on the table, little twirls of smoke hanging around them.

"Hermione." Harry stated, more in surprise rather than in greeting. He had completely forgotten about her. There was his mug on the table too, filled with coffee and that was exactly what he needed. He grabbed his mug gratefully and drank its contents with one go.

"Oh, good morning Harry. I thought you'll be up sooner. I should tell you, I haven't yet bur—Harry!"

"Brilliant. You are brilliant, Hermione." He had grabbed two pancakes in to his hands, kissed her cheek fondly and hurried out to floo to the ministry, hoping to come up with a better excuse for his tardiness other than sleeping in. After all becoming late did not set a good example to his pupils.

* * *

When he caught the tell-tale red hair coming towards the bakery a few blocks away from his workplace, it was Harry's turn to start avoiding his friend. What was Ron doing here? Harry swore his friend had some sort of tournament coming up this week. He quickened his steps as he clutched the bag of scones he had got for Teddy, dodging the people that walked by him. Harry gave a chuckle at the irony of the situation. It was usually Ron's habit to avoid Harry.

He remembered the last time they had talked. They had run in to each other at a quaint coffee shop in Diagon Alley and when they had sat down to drink coffee, Ron relaying the troubles in his life, the pressure he was facing in Quiddich… Harry had almost thought they were finally rekindling their relationship.

But of course, he had been so naïve then that he didn't realize till later; the only reason Ron had talked to him was due to the straining relationship between Hermione and the red head. Why else would he want to talk? Their meeting had been exactly three days before Hermione had showed up on Harry's door step. That had been maybe more than three months since Ron had said a quick 'hello' to him.

Harry looked around and spied an apparition point. He dared not to look behind him, not chancing Ron to spy the sun reflecting off his glasses. This was pathetic, he mused. But he honestly wasn't up for Ron's laments or his inquisition on Hermione. Ron wasn't stupid. He obviously would know where Hermione would have headed off to after being 'kicked out'.

Harry really wasn't ready to face Ron right now. He was tired too. He was visiting Teddy like he did every other day and also had to get home early enough to mark papers too.

Convincing himself that he wasn't being cowardly, Harry promptly apparated to Andromeda's front door as soon as he stepped on to the apparition zone.

* * *

"Harry?"

"Up here."

He heard Hermione's footsteps draw nearer to his study; the soft thuds on the stairs, the footsteps on the wooden floor. She seemed to have just arrived from work, no doubt staying late to probably finish off extra work she didn't have to do. He flipped the parchment he was looking at to squint at the crude letters that were scratched on with what looked like a poorly maintained quill. Harry detested marking essays. Why in the world the ministry made them all go through something like this was beyond him.

"Wow" Her voice sounded breathless. He chuckled. Trust Hermione to feel awed by a room filled with books and a big desk that he worked on. He supposed maybe the new furniture, paintings and maps probably enhanced the room.

And probably the curtains as well. Hermione had a thing about pretty curtains.

"It used to be the Black library, but I thought the room might turn out much more useful if I turned it in to a study." He explained, turning from his chair to look at her. She had discarded her robes but she still donned her work clothes. Her hair, that was up in a bun, had strands escaping out of its hold.

"How could a library _not_ be useful?" She asked incredulously.

Harry laughed softly. "I'm sure it would have been useful if you were living here. But you know me, I don't attempt living here."

He felt a smack on his head for his teasing.

"What are you doing? Are you…. Are those essays?" Hermione leaned against his chair from behind, looking over his shoulder. Her voice was curious and very close.

"Yes." He groaned, eyeing the pile he had to go through.

"But I thought all the theory got covered before entering in to official Auror training."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "It used to be that way but they decided to change things, probably with the war and everything. I admit I might have accidently contributed to it but it's a recent thing."

"Well, it's always good to make sure they know their stuff." Hermione said, her fingers absently taking place in his hair where his hand had been, while he turned his attention back to his current work. It probably was because of the lack of combing his hair went through after his shower in the morning. Kath had been quite eager trying to settle it back in to an organized state before Harry had ushered her off.

"They already know their 'stuff'. You can see it during practical training." Harry snorted, squinting at the scrawls. Was that an 'O' a 'C'? "Bloody hell, who wrote this?" He muttered searching the name who had written the world's most illegible essay.

"Now you know how Snape must have felt marking your essays." Hermione snorted, running her nails against his scalp.

"It's written by Ewell. Heck, he's one of the best in the program." Harry said exasperatedly, not hearing Hermione's comment. "Now I _have_ _to_ try read this."

"He does have terrible handwriting." Hermione agreed.

"But that's not going to mean anything in a duel. What's pretty handwriting going to do? Dazzle the enemy with its perfect spacing and proportional letters? You should see Ewell. He doesn't need neat handwriting to duel. He's an artist at it already" Harry rambled passionately.

Hermione sighed. "I think it shows discipline." Her tone sounded the way it did whenever she was trying to explain something from a different perspective. It was the same tone she had used when she explained why Cho had been crying on him when she kissed Harry.

"I mean, you can see from the essay he doesn't care much of the theory section of the program. He needs to discipline himself and do it; with patience to actually bother writing full sentences and add punctuation. It's important for an Auror to have a controlled mind, regardless of the unpleasantness of his situation." She explained.

"You sound like Snape." Harry grouched but he had to admit that she had a point. "But it's not like we survived the war through….. You know discipline." He scrunched his nose looking up at her. "I would say it was more instincts."

"But instinct is much more reliable through a developed mind. I think a disciplined head would do some good. It's good to enhance some skills beyond school." Hermione shrugged.

"I suppose." Harry muttered. He continued to decipher the handwriting. Ewell didn't seem as if he was too invested in explaining any of his points, but he did make good ones. Harry moved on to the next paragraph, Hermione's soothing fingers making the work less like a chore.

Then it stopped, right at the base of his skull. It effectively sent a shiver through him before her hands rested on his head.

"I met Ron today."

Harry paused. "I saw him too. Didn't really stop to talk to him though." He said dryly.

"Well, he did with me." Hermione sighed.

"I'm sure. Did he give you any trouble?" He asked, pursing his lips. Harry wasn't sure what kind of trouble Ron would give but he felt it would be good to ask.

"Not really. He just mentioned that there was a box he had packed with things I had apparently forgotten to take with me." She huffed. She sounded like she was insulted that Ron had insinuated she was careless. "He was wondering if I would be getting them anytime soon."

"You just moved out yesterday. You guys didn't bicker about it, did you?" There was a slight teasing in his voice, with a hint of concern.

"_No_." She said indignantly and then sighed. "I think we were much more interested to get out of each other's hair."

Harry nodded, writing a cheerful feedback on the essay. He moved on to the next one. He glanced at the name. Ah, Maggie Cain. She was a looker alright, but not the brightest of the lot. Her essay seemed in much better shape regarding its appearance. But Cain was no good at deflecting an onslaught of spells, was she?

He could feel Hermione leaning against him to look at the new essay he had pulled out. Did she wear perfume or was it the scent from her morning showers? Does she take morning showers or did she prefer before bed?

"You shouldn't have stopped." He muttered.

"Stopped what?"

He paused. "Your ...head massage." Harry said, going back to his work. Was it too much to ask? He really liked the feeling of her hands going through his hair. Who didn't?

Hermione gave a soft laugh. "Whatever the highness wishes." She mocked, but resumed her ministration to Harry's content.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I hope you will leave a review to let me know your thoughts.**

**As for the rating, I have decided on keeping it T and see how the story paves the way. If I see a chance for something that regards an M rating, I'll be sure to grab the chance. We'll see if Harry and Hermione decide to make things hot and heavy.**

**Thanks for your reviews on your concerns!**


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